This piece captures something rare: two co-founders reflecting on how their alternative media outlet actually came to exist. What makes it notable is the candid admission from James Butler about the gamble they took, the uncertainty they navigated, and the economic precariousness that defined their early years. This isn't PR — it's a behind-the-scenes look at what it takes to build left-wing media from scratch in Britain.
The conversation opens with Aaron Bastani playfully fielding questions about where James Butler has been, but quickly pivots to something more substantive: the origins of Novara Media itself. The co-founders trace their path back to a student occupation at UCL, where they met, and then to a radio slot on resonance fm — a station whose bedroom radio is "always tuned into residence" as Bastani quips. This matters because it shows that alternative media doesn't emerge from nowhere; it grows from specific political moments.
What emerges is a stark portrait of British media in 2010. Butler describes the landscape during early austerity: "there was very, very little criticism" of either "the political drive to austerity or indeed the sort of media reception of it." Bastani adds specificity: there was no Owen Jones — "that's how bad it was." He names figures like Ashleigh Blakeley, McLoughlin, Dave Ward as voices that simply didn't exist on mainstream platforms. The demonization of people on benefits wasn't just a policy choice; it was a media phenomenon.
The piece's most substantive claim comes when Butler discusses what survival means for digital formats: "in 50 years time none of this might not exist people think the internet it's permanent it's not digital files can be corrupted incredibly easily." He argues print is "so important" because "a book which was printed 200 years ago is still on someone's shelf." This reframes how we think about media permanence — not as a technical question but as a cultural one.
Print is incredibly enduring. I mean the only thing that supersedes it is stone tablets and we ain't doing that.
The economics of print, however, are brutal. Butler acknowledges that "the White Review in London has just said it's on indefinite hiatus" — referring to the London Review of Books' pause. The point isn't just nostalgia; it's about what survives. Events, printed matter, face-to-face gatherings: these "make life so much better."
On strikes and demos coverage, there's a moment of genuine self-reflection. Bastani admits they hired a labor journalist — "you'd be struggled to find many of those in British media" — but asks for feedback on what's missing. This openness is unusual for a media outlet.
The piece's strongest vulnerability appears when Butler addresses what drives purpose during tough times. His answer is layered: they never knew what they were building, there was a gap, nobody else was doing it, and "we thought it was very politically important that somebody did it." The admission that "things were tough" for both of them with Novara suggests candor, but the answer remains incomplete — truncated mid-thought.
Critics might note that the discussion of print economics could apply equally to their own digital platform. If digital files are so fragile, why build exclusively online? The tension between celebrating print's permanence and building a digital-only operation isn't fully resolved.
Bottom Line
This Q&A works because it lets co-founders speak in their own voice about the messy, uncertain beginnings of alternative media. Its strongest claim is that 2010 British media was so bereft that something like Novara was necessary — a gap-fill argument that's historically verifiable. The vulnerability lies in the truncated final answer about purpose; we hear what drives them when things get tough, but the response cuts off before completion. For busy readers, this offers rare insight into how left-wing media actually gets built: from student movements, through economic precarity, into professionalized operations with 400,000 subscribers.